The minutes go by slowly, slowly; a clock from some distant steeple chimes the hour. The soft pattering of rain upon the walk outside, and now upon the window-pane, is all the sound that can be heard.,
"Will that take her long?" asks Mona, somewhat wistfully, feeling, without understanding, some want in his voice.,
"This much," says Rodney, laughing again: "I am going to marry her, with her leave.".
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